


The Chains of a forgotten cult

by Pumpkin_Jelly



Category: Cult - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pumpkin_Jelly/pseuds/Pumpkin_Jelly
Summary: Far off in the frozen corners of the world in Russia, beneath the snowy hills and mountain herders, down below a snow covered mountain ridge, underground and far beyond the sunshine and frost lies a cult, the belief of those mountains hold the possession and key to a forgotten civilization, with instructions of making a new era, Artyom is a Russian scrap worker who has finally gotten the connections needed to join this cult of frost and insanity, with there unforgiving leader Evgeni, Artyom is not welcomed kindly however but with his knowledge and skill he can not be turned away,  will Artyom survive the mysterious and cold hearted Evgeni  and become one of there own, or become just another meaningless sacrifice for his amusement?





	The Chains of a forgotten cult

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: as stated this is an original work, any similarities to any assortment of other writing, Fandom, video games, or media is all coincidental, this contains gore, dark humor, violence, and sexual themes, if any or all of these make you uncomfortable or give a trigger, then do kindly turn away to another story of interest, this is my first time publishing here so im sorry for the incorrect formatting and will work to edit any mistakes once I get used to the programming itself, best of love and happy reading from your favorite Pumpkin

God it was always cold here, and Artyom hated it with a passion, snow blazing through again and again like a bulldozer, nothing but mountains for miles as he sat in the small, cramped Jeep, it might as well be a clown car with how many people could fit in such a small shoe box in his opinion. 

However this was not a ride up a ski lodge to grab some hot cocoa. 

If the fact of everyone except Artyom wore dark purple cloaks and black face masks that covered all but there eyes and forehead, which were marked with golden lines all across and red gloves with Medallions of shimmering silver that clicked and clacked like horse shoes with every damn bump on the mountain path, did NOT give away the obvious note of it being a cult didn't give that away...well yes indeed, Artyom was being carried off by a rather serious and agitated cult. 

Not that Artyom had gone against them, its just many of them hated to have gotten up at three in the morning to carry this sorry son of a bitch so early and still be driving this late in the evening, still it isn't a wise decision to make them mad, everyone knows cultists like coffee and these poor folks haven't had any for nearly a whole day. 

So there he sat, squished up next to another cultists sleeping peacefully, questioning his current decisions if this in fact was a good idea or not, he himself was 6"4 and even if he was a Russian barn farmer and not some body builder, Artyom still had lots of muscle from the younger years of working on his uncles farm up until his recent years. Still after the brutal lifting and pushing, Artyom fell in love with the feeling of working and pushing about, it was a hobby he had a love hate relationship and hell, with how much he loved Raspberry doughnuts he had to put off the weight somehow. 

Artyom was still as a statue not wanting to piss off the slumbering servant of a cult that was using his shoulder as a pillow, from the features he could pick, this was a woman, yet it was hard to tell but thankfully with analysis, and having to smell her cherry scented shampoo that was almost suffocating on the top of her head that seeped through her plum purple hood did also help out a lot, the clothes they wore were thick and heavy, not showing any curves or signs of femininity or masculinity either, all of which were the same, yet again living underground in a mountain proved to have its disadvantages, warmth over wear of course. 

looking out the window was the same view, mountains of snow, Treacherous cliffs that took only one slight swivel and Artyom was going to figure out real quickly what the bottom of a Mountain tasted like. 

The evening sun looked so pretty, waving gently beneath the clouds peaking through every so often, making the snow glitter like Tears, the occasional bump made Artyom worry if the fellow cultis next to him would smack her head on the roof of the jeep and would have a rude awakening of some sort. 

It would be night time, no stars in sight with how many clouds laced through each other like strings on a tapestry once again. Having to leave the rather cramped but cozy jeep with warmth, God Artyom needed to piss, now at the bottom of the mouth of this mountain, wearing a heavy brown work jacket with gloves and a grey cap covering his Dark brown hair, the stubble beginning to turn into a beard now, and his hair much longer then it should be, his dark brown eyes, so worn and tired with bags underneath, rubbing his calloused face with those black steel toe boots crunching the snow underneath with now mercy, Artyoms breath like smoke from his warm lungs into the unforgiving icy air. 

He'd quietly walk back over towards a large Boulder down beneath the valley as it was professionally called, to unzip his heavy set jeans and take a quick piss, well don't eat the yellow snow kids. 

Once finished hed zip up his pants once again, not many judged since a few others had to let one go too, hey it was a long car ride dont judge now, it was beginning to snow again, by God where was it at? There wasn't any doors, not of ones that looked obvious anyways, just tall overbearing mountains that felt like they'd collapse in over Artyoms head at any given moment without hesitation, making him feel like a small little boy in the world.

_"This is your last chance my child, to turn away from this and forget it had even happened in truth, nobody would ever believe you if you spoke of this journey, even you know it don't you? A lonesome worker speaking of false insanities is as old as time."_

The oldest one spoke, with vein shriveled white hands and a hunched over back with the robes stacked over there frail body with those long and rather scary looking nails as a male cultist narrowed his eyes tapping his foot. 

_"If he turns around now after having to be stuck in that little tin can for 18 hours with one break in between im going to execute him myself for personal reasons I swear to the gods above!"_

The oldest one sighed before turning to Artyom who watched this little amusing scene, how it showed these scary cultists were people just like himself.

_"Ignore him, please do tell us an answer now, it's terribly cold and my arthritis is beginning to kill me, as if 18 hours wasn't enough for you to decide."_

Artyom stood in silence looking at the handful of cult leaders before him, yes the threats were real and so was the peer pressure but, how he had been living in recent years was just...

Recalling when his parents had died in a car accident involving a deer when he himself was just a newborn from the hospital, his little body was the only one that survived, family court to see who in this family would be the lucky inheritance of a baby boy, with his mother being the youngest born from a rather older couple who thought it was impossible to be pregnant, near about all the relatives were either in coffins or Elderly homes, leaving to his dads side of the family. 

Many relatives had been based around the army, many dying or severely injured from wars in the upcoming times, traumatized from the horrors, living alone and ending it themselves unable to carry on, it left his uncle. 

A man who lived off of Scavenging for belongings in barns abandoned from the cold or from death, building what he could and selling it in his small shop to keep the barn going onwards, again and again this process continued without issue, until college approached, and Artyom decided to become a helper in this scrappy business for his uncles sake, then suddenly, he got the flu and passed away leaving behind all this metal junk. 

Artyom had nothing but a meaningless desk job left. 

So with that he looked up, maybe it was a midlife crisis, maybe he was insane, or pure bored, but he gave a thin smile showing those white teeth of his just like snowflakes before speaking for the first time in a long while with that heavy Russian accent. 

_"I won't turn away now, this is a new life for me, I leave behind my old life, and old self now, and I accept that."_

The cultists stood around as the cold wind blew giving a nod to each other happily as the elderly one soon spoke again. 

_"Well he's spoken of his will, let us continue on with this Farmer boy now, any longer and I'm going to get frostbite."_

The largest cult member, a guy roughly of Artyoms size soon approached a large crooked wall of the mountain, brushing off the snow before grabbing his amulet and inserting it like a coin, before the wall itself began to split revealing an odd round sigil, the lines like roots with no real pattern until it swirls near the middle into a skull of a deer, before splitting apart in multiple pieces with loud groans and shakes as soon a dark and large hallway that appeared to be the size of some aircraft hanger was to be shown, and the lights flickered on, thank God this place had electricity. 

Artyom looked outside one last time, knowing the second he stepped inside the old him was gone and dead forever, his old lifestyle forgotten, and with that he smiled a bit faintly before going inside never looking back. 

And with that, one cultist driving the jeep inside, and the others walking with a few hanging onto the side of the saif jeep, the door would slam shut and the elderly one collected his Amulet and continued inside. 

It was pure silence now, silence to show Artyom made a decision, a permanent decision he was proud of for now anyways. 

Hopefully he won't regret it. 


End file.
